Hey if you guys have ideas for shadow or other stuff nows the time to give them
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Nine months.
Sometimes it feels like a blur of sunrise and sore muscles, other times like a lifetime I lived on repeat.
When I think back, I can still taste the salt air from those first mornings at the beach—the same beach All Might told me to "claim" for myself. Every sunrise started the same way: wind cutting across the water, me forcing my legs to move before the rest of my body remembered how tired it was. All Might would shout encouragement while I moved heavy trash on the beach.
The hardest part wasn't the strength training. It was learning to listen to the power inside me. One For All isn't gentle; it's pressure wearing a smile. At twenty percent my bones hum, at twenty-one they warn me to stop. I learned that line the painful way—too many times. The trick was finding calm inside that storm, and weirdly, that's where my own quirk helped. Shadows don't rush. They wait. When I let them wrap around the neon-blue glow of One For All, both powers started to breathe together instead of fighting for space.
Most days ended in the same place they began—sweat, grit, a notebook full of numbers—but the people around me made it matter. Momo's calm corrections, Nerissa's endless energy and patching me up, Shōko's quiet determination—they built a rhythm I could fall into when my focus cracked. Endeavor dropped in once or twice, more flame and scowl than words, but even he started nodding instead of grumbling. From him, that's basically a handshake.
There were mistakes. The time I misjudged an output test and broke my arm. The week I pushed too hard and couldn't unclench my fists. Momo made me tea and lectured me like a mother hen while Nerissa stole my protein bars "for my own good." Shōko just sat beside me and said, "You'll do better tomorrow." She was right.
By month three I could hold 15 percent steady through a full combat sequence. All Might called it "pretty good". He said heroes forget that sometimes the world needs walls more than hammers. I wrote that down.
By month five the shadows started to get more used to OFA like it wasn't as alien as before.
The others grew too. Momo turned her creation quirk into an engineer's dream, designing sleek gear that fit like silk more than armor. Nerissa learned to fold light so it flashed in sync with my movements, painting bursts of brilliance through my dark constructs. Shōko's balance between flame and frost became art; I swear she could sculpt the temperature itself. Watching them catch up made me proud in a way I can't explain. They weren't chasing me; we were pulling each other forward.
By the ninth month I could wield twenty percent of One For All and weave it through my shadows without strain, the neon-blue glow humming in rhythm with my heartbeat. Every session left me stronger, calmer, more precise.
The others pushed themselves just as hard. Momo perfected adaptive armor designs that complemented our styles instead of slowing us down. Nerissa learned to condense her light into bursts that flared in sync with my strikes, and Shōko's control of ice and fire was balanced enough to spar with me head-on. Watching them grow beside me turned training into something better—it became proof of what we could accomplish together.
Even All Might and Endeavor seemed to notice. I caught them talking once—All Might's laugh low and easy, Endeavor's tone grudging but approving. I didn't need to hear the words to know they were proud.
Now, as I look back on the months behind us, it doesn't feel like struggle—it feels like foundation. Every early morning, every careful adjustment of power, every small victory built toward this moment. My quirk hums steady, my body knows the rhythm, and my friends are stronger than ever.
-2 days before the entrance exam
Most mornings at Dagobah Beach began the same way—salt wind, cold air, and All Might's voice cutting across both.
"Come on, Midoriya! Heroes don't warm up by thinking about it!"
The impact that followed shook the sand into miniature avalanches. All Might's punch stopped a meter short of Izuku's chest, the shockwave still strong enough to send grit stinging against his face.
Izuku didn't flinch. He had learned that flinching wasted oxygen.
He pivoted instead, driving forward with a short burst of blue light—his own counterpunch—fist glancing off All Might's forearm hard enough to leave a faint white mark on the metal wrist brace the former Symbol of Peace wore these days.
The blow barely moved him. All Might smiled anyway. "Better. But you're still waiting for my rhythm instead of breaking it."
Izuku exhaled through his teeth and reset his stance. "If I overstep, you catch me with one hit."
"That's training, not doom," All Might said. "If you want perfection, stop chasing comfort."
The next round came faster.
"Too early!" All Might called. "You shielded before the threat!"
Izuku growled and cut the barrier, forcing his focus back to his breathing. He could feel the rhythm of both quirks inside him—the neon hum of One For All and the deep, patient thrum of his shadow control. They didn't oppose each other anymore, but they still didn't agree.
Another blow came. Izuku stepped through this one, letting his shadow flow around his legs, cushioning the blast, then redirected the energy with a short twist of his torso. The force bent outward, scattering sand instead of his balance.
"Good!" All Might boomed, grinning now. "That's using the force instead of hiding from it!"
They reset again, this time circling each other. The horizon was bright gold behind All Might's silhouette, waves throwing mist over the edge of the training ground.
Izuku moved first.
He flicked a shadow spike through the sand—small, fast—and followed it with a straight rush, 20% of One For All rippling through him in a clean, even glow. Blue arcs danced across his arms; his shadow traced his step like a mirror.
All Might parried the first hit. The second came faster. The third connected, sliding off his ribs and making the older hero grunt, more out of surprise than pain.
"Finally," All Might said. "You're learning."
Izuku didn't answer. Words would break his concentration.
He slipped under the counterstrike and used his shadow to whip the sand into a spiral around All Might's legs—a trick he'd learned during winter drills with Endeavor. The move wouldn't stop a pro-level opponent, but it bought half a second, and half a second was enough.
He pivoted and aimed for the gap in All Might's stance, driving one last controlled strike into the open space.
The sound cracked across the beach like a starting gun.
All Might skidded half a step back before planting his feet again, expression bright with something halfway between pride and disbelief. "That—" he said, "—was clean. You even adjusted for recoil mid-hit."
Izuku fell to one knee, breathing hard but steady. The neon light around him dimmed in sync with his pulse. The sand under his palms vibrated faintly from residual energy before cooling into stillness.
He looked up. "It's not perfect yet."
"It's better than perfect," All Might said, resting his hands on his hips. "It's controlled."
He offered a hand. Izuku took it, muscles in his arm twitching as the older hero hauled him up with practiced ease.
-Day before the exam-
The Yaoyorozu estate glowed the way memory does—bright enough to feel safe, dim enough to seem unreal. The staff had set the extra long table, though the room still felt too large for only eight people.
Momo led the others in with practiced ease, but Izuku could see the faint stiffness in her shoulders. She'd hosted a hundred dinners here, but never with all their parents gathered.
Mrs. Yaoyorozu rose first. "Welcome, everyone. It's lovely to have young voices here again."
Her husband gave a small nod. "Please, sit. The food will get cold before my daughter finishes worrying."
That earned a light laugh from Momo and quietly broke the formality. They took their seats—Momo beside Izuku, Shōko and Nerissa across.
Dinner began gently: talk of weather, of exam nerves, of Endeavor insisting that "proper rest counts as training." Inko's laughter filled the pauses, Rei's calm threaded through the chatter, and for a while everything was just ordinary.
Until it wasn't.
Rei's gaze lingered a moment longer than casual on the four students. She caught the small gestures—the way Momo refilled Nerissa's cup without asking, how Shōko's glance found Izuku's before she answered a question. It was subtle, but to a mother who'd raised a girl learning to hide her heart, it was unmistakable.
"Shōko," Rei said softly, her tone friendly but curious. "You asked me something a while back—about love growing from friendship. Did you ever find your answer?"
The room stilled just enough for everyone to hear Shōko's quiet reply. " I did."
Mr. Yaoyorozu's brows lifted. "Is that so?" His voice wasn't sharp, only measuring.
Momo hesitated, then straightened. "Father, before you ask… I think we should be honest."
Mrs. Yaoyorozu tilted her head, a half-smile forming. "Honesty is always welcome, dear."
Momo took a breath. "The three of us… care for izuku. Deeply. It isn't a distraction. It's simply what grew between us, we decided to share him. We have all been friends since we were kids and the three of us decide to keep it that way just except were all dating izuku"
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Inko blinked, startled but smiling. "Oh! Well—that explains a few things."
Endeavor grunted into his glass. "Hmph. I wondered why they train like they're trying to impress one another."
That loosened the air. Nerissa covered a laugh; even Shōko's lips twitched.
Mrs. Yaoyorozu rested her elbows lightly on the table. "You're young, but you've all carried yourselves with more grace than most adults I know. I won't scold you for being close. I will remind you that closeness asks for care—especially when the world soon expects more of you."
Her husband nodded, but his tone softened. "Love isn't the enemy of discipline. It's what gives discipline meaning. Just remember that affection doesn't excuse responsibility."
Momo met his gaze. "We understand, Father."
"I believe you do," he said, the corner of his mouth almost curving. "And for the record, I prefer this honesty to any secret."
Rei's smile turned knowing. "They're learning balance earlier than most of us did."
Inko sighed with mock drama. "Please just promise me no one's eloping before the midterms."
That earned genuine laughter around the table. Even Endeavor chuckled—quietly, but enough to make Rei glance at him in amused disbelief.
The conversation drifted back to lighter ground—snack plans for exam day, Momo's latest gadget idea, Nerissa teasing Izuku about oversleeping. By dessert, the tension had melted into comfort again, replaced by the calm that follows truth spoken plainly.
When they finally rose from the table, Mrs. Yaoyorozu stopped Momo by the doorway. "You handled that beautifully," she said. "I know honesty costs courage. Keep both."
Momo smiled, eyes shining. "Yes, Mother."
Mr. Yaoyorozu clapped Izuku lightly on the shoulder—unexpected, brief, but unmistakably approving. "Take care of each other," he said. "And of yourselves."
Out in the garden, the night air smelled faintly of rain and tea leaves. Fireflies drifted over the pond, their reflections flickering like tiny lanterns.
Nerissa exhaled a laugh. "Well, that could've gone worse."
Shōko nodded. "They didn't forbid anything."
Izuku smiled, hands in his pockets. "They just want us to be smart."
Momo looked back at the softly lit windows of her home. "And they will be watching." Then, quieter, "I'm glad they know."
Izuku nudged her shoulder. "So am I."
They stood there a moment longer, the sound of crickets rising around them, before turning down the path toward the training yard—toward the quiet night that would become the start of something new.
---
(Izuku – first-person POV)
Dagobah Beach had always smelled like beginnings.
Salt, rust, and wind—everything that used to scrape my lungs the first time I trained here. Now the sand was clean again, the broken bottles long gone. Only the sound of waves remained, steady as breath.
Nine months. That's how long I've had One For All.
Nine months of cracked bones, sleepless mornings, and learning to make the storm inside me stop tearing itself apart.
Tonight I wanted to see if it could build something instead.
The word the parents kept repeating at dinner still circled in my head.
Protect.
I looked out over the dark water. "Then let's make something that can."
The neon-blue hum of One For All climbed through my chest. My shadows responded, stretching across the sand in wide, rippling arcs. I dropped to one knee and pressed my hand to the ground. "No fighting," I whispered. "Just follow the shape."
The power moved. The sand trembled. Darkness pooled upward in spirals, met by lines of light that stitched through it like veins. Each heartbeat pressed the fusion tighter—energy bleeding into shadow until they stopped being separate things.
It hurt, but not the way it used to. This was strain with purpose.
I pictured what I wanted: not a soldier, not a weapon—a guardian. The same instinct that made me pull people out of danger given form.
The beach brightened in a wide blue circle as the construct took shape.
A spine arched from the ground, wings unfurling in slow, liquid motion, scales layering themselves like sheets of midnight glass shot through with faint fire.
When the glow steadied, it looked back at me.
A dragon—small, maybe three meters long, but alive in presence. Obsidian hide. Veins of blue light running beneath the surface like a heartbeat. Eyes the color of lightning trapped in water.
I felt it through the shadows linking us: calm vigilance, the simple awareness of purpose. It didn't wait for a command because it already knew what it existed to do.
Protect.
I took a step closer. "You're my second," I said quietly. "Igris guards the ground. You guard everything above it."
The dragon's eyes flared once, slow and certain. Heat rolled from its body—not burning, just alive. The pulse in my chest synced with the pulse in its veins. For the first time, the two halves of my power agreed completely.
The effort hit like a wave. My knees shook; my breath came shallow. I could feel every circuit of One For All demanding rest, every thread of shadow straining to hold its shape.
Still, I smiled. "You need a name."
Then a word surfaced. "Kaelros."
The dragon lowered its head, a low vibration running through the sand. The sound wasn't a growl—it was acknowledgement, loyalty carved into motion.
The light began to fade. The neon veins dimmed to embers as Kaelros folded its wings. It looked at me once more, eyes softening to that same steady blue, then dispersed—shadow returning to earth, light sliding away into the tide.
I collapsed onto the sand, muscles shaking from the drain. The glow in my arms flickered out, leaving only moonlight.
I could still feel Igris deep inside my shadow—patient—and Kaelros farther away, a quiet weight at the edge of awareness. Both waiting.
I let out a weak laugh. "Welcome to the family."
The tide crept up, erasing the prints its claws had left. The sea whispered against the shore, and the stars looked close enough to touch.
Then everything went still. And for the first time in nine months, so did I.
---
The sunrise over Musutafu came up quiet, the light thin and gold at first, stretching across rooftops still wet with dew.
Izuku woke where he had fallen asleep—half-buried in the sand of Dagobah Beach. "Oh crap im gonna be late" he yelled as he activated OFA and sprinted home
---
Morning Departure
By the time he reached the Yaoyorozu estate again, the others were already awake.
Momo met him at the gate, hair pulled back, the faintest relief on her face before she crossed her arms. "You disappeared again."
"Beach," he admitted. "Needed to think."
Shōko raised an eyebrow from where she leaned against the car. "Judging by how late you are, you thought for a while."
Nerissa snorted. "At least you didn't drown. Come on, genius, we'll be late."
They laughed, and the tension broke. The four piled into the car; the Yaoyorozu driver took the wheel. None of them spoke much during the ride—each lost in their own rhythm of breath and nerves. Outside, the city sharpened from sunrise haze into clear morning lines, the U.A. campus cresting the skyline like a promise finally within reach.
---
Arrival at U.A.
The gates of U.A. High were already surrounded by hopeful students, all in civilian clothes, most talking too loud to hide their nerves. The school's main building rose behind the plaza—polished glass, concrete, and the impossible sense that history started here every year.
Izuku stepped out first, squinting against the brightness. His stomach knotted, but not with fear. Just focus.
They checked in, collected test numbers, and followed the flow toward the main auditorium. A massive U.A. banner hung above the entrance, catching the breeze like a flag before a storm.
Inside, hundreds of seats filled the hall in neat semicircles facing the stage. A giant screen displayed the U.A. crest beside the words Entrance Examination Orientation. Staff moved along the aisles distributing tablets for the written portion.
Present Mic's voice exploded from the speakers. "YOOOO, future heroes! Good morning!"
A wave of startled laughter rolled through the room. Present Mic grinned, leaning toward the mic stand like the energy couldn't fit inside him. "Welcome to the first step of your U.A. journey! We're starting with the written portion—brains before brawn, people! You've got one hour; don't panic, don't copy, and for the love of quirks, don't spill anything on the equipment!"
When the countdown on the screen started, the room fell into near-silence. The only sound was the collective tapping of styluses against glass.
The Written Exam
Questions came fast: hero ethics, emergency response codes, combat-physics equations, strategy scenarios.
At one point, he glanced sideways. Momo's focus was absolute; her stylus moved in clean, decisive strokes. Shōko's expression hadn't changed since the first question. Nerissa was mouthing formulas under her breath but smiling anyway.
When the timer hit zero, the tablets locked automatically. A collective exhale swept through the hall like wind through trees.
Present Mic bounded back onto the stage. "A-MA-ZING energy, everybody! Now that your brains are properly fried, it's time for the fun part—the practical exam! Report by group to the mock-city arena outside. You'll get final instructions there."
The screen behind him lit with the sector map: four massive testing zones labeled A through D.
Momo looked over at Izuku. " That's us, good luck you guys see you after the exam."
He nodded, rising with the crowd. "Then let's make it count."
The group funneled out into sunlight again. The air was cooler, the wind picking up from the bay, carrying the faint metallic tang of machinery. Beyond the courtyard, the mock-city grounds stretched wide—towering structures, streets, and alleys designed to mimic the chaos of real urban combat.
Izuku adjusted his gloves, the faint hum of One For All running quietly through his muscles. Shadows stirred at the edges of his feet, ready but contained.
For months he'd built toward balance. Now he would find out if it held.
---
Everyone was gathered around the gates waiting and ready to go
The light hit green and the crowd surged.
I didn't sprint with them. I stepped in—clean, measured—and let twenty percent flood the lines of my body. Neon blue climbed my arms like a heartbeat finding itself. Shadows pooled from my feet, smooth and cool as spilled ink.
Zone C opened into concrete canyons and tilted billboards. Servo whine. Impact thuds. Then the first chorus of metal voices.
I moved.
A one-pointer pitched around a corner, optics flashing. I was already through its center with a short, clean cross that buckled the frame and sent it folding into itself. My shadow caught the shrapnel and tucked it aside like moving curtains.
10.
A two-pointer clattered down off a balcony. I let the shadows net its ankles for half a second—just enough—to step in and kick straight through the thorax. Sparks, smoke, quiet.
30.
"Go," I said, and the darkness at my back deepened.
Igris rose like a promise—armor blacker than night, sword already up, helm eyes burning blue. He needed no orders. He turned and went, stride silent, blade work exact. A three-pointer opened fire and Igris answered with motion: two cuts, one pivot, a third strike at the neck-joint. The head pinwheeled into a shopfront. The body collapsed as if its strings had been cut.
60. 70. 90.
The math hummed above me on the scoreboard, but it felt far away. What mattered was whats in front of me. I was focusing on keeping 20% of OFA running smoothly through my body and keeping it there as not to tire out too fast
A cluster of bots boxed in a narrow street—two one-pointers, a two-pointer, and another three. Igris flashed ahead, caught the three-pointer's opening swing on his forearm plate, and slid under it in the same motion. I came over the top, landed on the two-pointer's shoulder and punched down. The frame detonated around my fist. Shadows peeled the one-pointers off the wall, flipped them, held them open for Igris to cut. Four heartbeats. Silence.
140.
Okay. Good. Keep it clean.
We ran the grid: alley, plaza, broken tramway, collapsed footbridge. Igris cleared high; I ran the street. When we crossed again, he gave me that tiny, wordless nod that meant we were ahead of pace. I felt the same answer rise in my chest: steady.
"Half time remaining," Present Mic boomed somewhere over the rooftops. Cheers, shouts, the crack of quirks hitting alloy.
I took a long breath and tasted ozone. Not tired yet. Good.
My score was past two hundred. The noise of the arena blurred into wind and metal.
Igris and I moved like one shadow through the ruins—swift, efficient, unhurried.
One-pointers, Two-pointers, and Three-pointers none were really any challenge at this point. To be honest it felt like killing trash mobs in a video game.
A building collapsed somewhere deeper in Zone C. Dust rolled through the alley, catching the light from the shattered street lamps. The test wasn't supposed to be easy, but it wasn't supposed to feel this effortless either.
That thought had barely formed when the ground began to shake.
Not tremble. Shake.
The sound rolled in from the far end of the block—like thunder that couldn't decide which direction to fall. Students shouted; the air filled with the metallic roar of heavy hydraulics.
I looked up.
The Zero Pointer stepped through two towers like they were paper.
Ten stories of steel and anger. Spotlights cutting through smoke. The street cracked beneath its feet, and the whole zone shuddered under the impact.
I turned to run, no reason to fight it I thought. That's when I saw her—brown bob, pink cheeks, eyes blown wide—pinned under a collapsed support girder where the street had heaved. She was using her quirk to make the debris lighter, but it looked like she overused her quirk. The beam jolted, dropped, and caught her across the ankle. She bit off a cry.
All Might's voice in my head: A real test doesn't warn you when it starts.
I smiled without meaning to. "Guess this is it."
I didn't think about points.
I hit my maximum safe output and the world narrowed—the girder, the girl, the path between them. Shadow flowed ahead like a black tide, shouldering rubble out of the way. I slid on concrete dust, caught the edge of the beam and lifted. Weight screamed down my arms; neon skated hot along my tendons. The metal rose. Her breath hitched.
"Can you move?"
"Y-yeah—" she gasped. "—thank you—"
"Good, run, ill deal with this then get back to the exam" i said turn away to focus on the zero pointer.
Igris materialized beside me, sword low, the glow from his eyes reflecting off the dust.
I didn't have to say it out loud; he felt the command the way muscle feels impulse. He turned toward the machine, blade already humming with shadow.
"Kaelros," I said softly.
The street darkened as the dragon stepped out of my shadow, smaller at first—three meters, like before—but already radiating pressure that made the air feel heavy. Blue light threaded through the cracks in his scales, veins pulsing in slow, steady rhythm.
Both of them waited for my order.
I could feel One For All humming inside me—20% across every nerve, full-body control. Power, calm, balance.
This was the moment to see if they could carry that same balance on their own.
"Take it," I said. "Show me what you've got."
Kaelros moved first.
A flex of wings and he surged upward, the air buckling around him. He grew in size as he climbed—drawing not from me, but from the energy of One For All , the excess potential my body couldn't use yet. The neon along his body blazed brighter, his form expanding mid-flight until his wingspan cut across the sky like twin blades of light.
He hit the Zero Pointer's chest at full speed, claws finding metal, momentum carrying both backward. The impact rippled down the street, shattering windows for a block.
The machine reeled. Kaelros twisted, landing in a crouch that dented asphalt, then launched again, climbing the monster's frame like a living storm.
Igris followed—his movements a blur of black steel. He scaled the opposite side, using the shadowed joints as footholds, his blade carving through armor seams as if through air.
The Zero Pointer swung, catching Kaelros across the shoulder. The dragon slid back, claws gouging deep trenches into the street, blue sparks bleeding from the wound but those healed an instant later. He roared—not pain, just declaration—and the neon across his body surged.
Kaelros's chest flared—light folding inward, compressing into a core between his ribs. When he exhaled, it wasn't fire. It was pure energy—a focused blast of blue pressure that slammed into the Zero Pointer's arm joint and melted half the plating clean through.
The machine staggered.
Igris was there to meet it. He leapt from the wall, sword held in both hands, and drove it into the exposed gears at the hip. The blade sank deep, shadow threading through the wound like infection. Sparks erupted; smoke followed.
The two creations moved together without overlap or hesitation—Kaelros controlling the machines movements , Igris carving into the more vital parts.
They weren't tools anymore. They were extensions—autonomous, tactical, alive in every way that mattered.
I could feel them through the link: their rhythm, their intent, their shared understanding.
Pride hit me like adrenaline.
"Perfect," I whispered.
Kaelros's tail whipped out, shattering a kneejoint. The machine stumbled, its massive knee buckling. Igris darted forward, shadow tendrils catching on his armor as he propelled himself upward along the collapsing leg, climbing toward the head.
The Zero Pointer made weird robot noises —an electronic bellow that split the air—and lashed out with its remaining arm.
Kaelros met it mid-swing, intercepting the strike with both wings folded in a cross block. The impact sent a shockwave through the street, but he held. The glow in his body flickered, then steadied as he drew again from one for all.
The street beneath them glowed faint blue, the veins of shadow beneath my feet responding instinctively.
Igris reached the top, blade blazing with shadowlight, and plunged it through the sensor cluster between the eyes. The head jerked backward, sparks geysering from the wound.
The Zero Pointer swayed, hydraulics screaming. Its arm slammed down, crushing half a building, but Kaelros pressed forward, claws locking onto the torso, wings beating once, twice—forcing it off balance.
That was the opening.
"Now," I said, voice low.
Kaelros's chest brightened again, this time to blinding white-blue. I could feel the energy buildup like static crawling along my arms even from below. He coiled his neck, reared back, and unleashed everything.
The blast hit the core housing dead center. The explosion painted the entire zone in light—shadows leaping high off the walls, the sound rolling out to the horizon like a cannon.
The Zero Pointer's chest ruptured inward. Machinery screamed and died. The giant tilted, joints seizing, and began to fall.
The Zero Pointer's body slammed into the street, a wave of dust and debris chasing out in every direction.
I felt the energy drain crash over me, heart hammering like a drum. But they'd done it.
When the smoke cleared, Kaelros was crouched beside the wreckage, wings half-extended, heat shimmering off his scales. His size began to diminish slowly as the borrowed energy bled off—ten meters, then six, then three.
Igris landed beside me, sword tip lowering to the ground, shoulders rising and falling in calm rhythm.
Both turned toward me.
The link between us pulsed once—silent acknowledgment.
"You did it," I breathed. "Both of you."
Kaelros's body straightened up and flared in quiet pride. Igris straightened, sword to his chest in salute.
I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face.
The scoreboard above the zone flickered.
Sirens wound down. Present Mic's voice rolled over the arena, big and pleased and distant: "THAT'S TIME! EXAM OVER! Great hustle out there, everyone!"
The words barely registered. I was looking at them—my first two shadows, my proof.
Igris stood watch over the downed machine.
Kaelros looked back toward me, the faint blue glow of his eyes softening. He lowered his head, a gesture so fluid it felt natural, instinctive as if seeking more praise.
I smiled, exhaustion turning the world warm at the edges. "We'll call that a pass."
They dissolved at my signal—shadows sliding back into the ground, leaving faint blue trails across the fractured street.
The moment they vanished, the full weight of what I'd done settled over me. My body trembled, but it wasn't fear or pain. It was awe.
I hadn't fought alone, we worked well together
I stood up straighter and walked toward the exit confident in passing and happy with the results of what id done